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Authors: Francine Du Plessix Gray
Tags: Fiction, Historical
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that they talk to women in language that French grenadiers would be ashamed to use with prostitutes. It was while in Turin that I learned of Gustavus’s coup d’état. Without a drop of blood being shed, he had rid himself of the Riksdag’s stranglehold on the country! Voltaire celebrated him in these verses:
“Jeune et digne héritier du grand nom de Gustave Sauveur d’un peuple libre et roi d’un peuple brave.”
Having finally arrived in Paris in November of 1773, I met the woman to whom I attribute my sexual awakening, the Marquise de Blacas. Ah,
chère
Marguerite, what shall I remember best of your wondrous body, of the ecstasies you taught me? The long dark head of hair that swept across my chest as you lay on top of me, your milky thighs weaving about my waist as you displayed your superb mastery of the male body? The great bushy twat I loved to bury my head in, making my tongue as delicate as a cat’s as it gamboled about your orifice? Thefull round nipples I bit as you hovered over me, withdrawing from my penis in a slow gentle motion, then thrusting it back into yourself with great violence, whispering
“Oui, oui, comme ça mon chéri, comme ça,”
this not only addressed to me but also to some god of carnal love who was clearly your friend? Or those moments when I simply stared at you as you lay naked on your divan, looking at me with your sly, mocking gaze, hand held in mock modesty over your bush, reminding me, oh so gloriously, of Titian’s
Venus,
needing only a black servant with a parasol, a white pup scampering at your feet, to become a replica of that masterpiece? Or else those times when I lay on top of you, mouthing your shoulders, neck, breasts, sliding slowly into you as if to erase every inner wrinkle of your silken path? All this and heaven too you taught me, dear professor of desire, as you turned the shy young Swede into a sexual athlete—one who henceforth tried not to display his swaggering confidence.
But it is at the very height of our gamboling that I went to that opera ball and met the chaste young woman who would become my life’s central passion. Few men have known as well as I the discrete difference between profane and sacred love.
CHAPTER 4
Sophie:
MY BROTHER AT WAR
I T WAS HARD FOR ME to understand why my gentle brother would ever desire to take part in armed conflict, would ever be able to aim his rifle at another human being. But since his adolescence he’d aspired to be a soldier and experience battle, and he also tended to be very anti-British. In 1778 France decided to side with America’s rebellious colonists; great numbers of distinguished French citizens—most notably the twenty-four-year-old Marquis de Lafayette and his brother-in-law the Vicomte de Noailles—crossed the ocean to join America’s colonists in their struggle for independence from Great Britain. The example of such illustrious men influenced thousands of Europeans to volunteer in that war, and my brother was one of the very first to enlist in the French Expeditionary Force. By order of the king, this force could not exceed five thousand, and it is a sign of France’s enthusiasm for the American cause that thousands of citizens eager to join the conflict were turned down.
But was Axel’s decision to fight in the Revolutionary War solely dictated by his martial ambitions and his admiration for the American cause? Could it be that it also had to do with the queen’s tender feelings for him, which she was expressing with increasing candor? I believe that all three factors contributed to his resolve to engage in the conflict.Here is what Ambassador Creutz had to say about their relationship in a letter to our monarch, Gustavus III:
“I must let Your Majesty know that the young Count von Fersen was held in such high esteem by the queen that a few at court were made uneasy by the evidence of her regard for him. I confess that I myself saw too much clear proof of her penchant for the count to
“Jeune et digne héritier du grand nom de Gustave Sauveur d’un peuple libre et roi d’un peuple brave.”
Having finally arrived in Paris in November of 1773, I met the woman to whom I attribute my sexual awakening, the Marquise de Blacas. Ah,
chère
Marguerite, what shall I remember best of your wondrous body, of the ecstasies you taught me? The long dark head of hair that swept across my chest as you lay on top of me, your milky thighs weaving about my waist as you displayed your superb mastery of the male body? The great bushy twat I loved to bury my head in, making my tongue as delicate as a cat’s as it gamboled about your orifice? Thefull round nipples I bit as you hovered over me, withdrawing from my penis in a slow gentle motion, then thrusting it back into yourself with great violence, whispering
“Oui, oui, comme ça mon chéri, comme ça,”
this not only addressed to me but also to some god of carnal love who was clearly your friend? Or those moments when I simply stared at you as you lay naked on your divan, looking at me with your sly, mocking gaze, hand held in mock modesty over your bush, reminding me, oh so gloriously, of Titian’s
Venus,
needing only a black servant with a parasol, a white pup scampering at your feet, to become a replica of that masterpiece? Or else those times when I lay on top of you, mouthing your shoulders, neck, breasts, sliding slowly into you as if to erase every inner wrinkle of your silken path? All this and heaven too you taught me, dear professor of desire, as you turned the shy young Swede into a sexual athlete—one who henceforth tried not to display his swaggering confidence.
But it is at the very height of our gamboling that I went to that opera ball and met the chaste young woman who would become my life’s central passion. Few men have known as well as I the discrete difference between profane and sacred love.
CHAPTER 4
Sophie:
MY BROTHER AT WAR
I T WAS HARD FOR ME to understand why my gentle brother would ever desire to take part in armed conflict, would ever be able to aim his rifle at another human being. But since his adolescence he’d aspired to be a soldier and experience battle, and he also tended to be very anti-British. In 1778 France decided to side with America’s rebellious colonists; great numbers of distinguished French citizens—most notably the twenty-four-year-old Marquis de Lafayette and his brother-in-law the Vicomte de Noailles—crossed the ocean to join America’s colonists in their struggle for independence from Great Britain. The example of such illustrious men influenced thousands of Europeans to volunteer in that war, and my brother was one of the very first to enlist in the French Expeditionary Force. By order of the king, this force could not exceed five thousand, and it is a sign of France’s enthusiasm for the American cause that thousands of citizens eager to join the conflict were turned down.
But was Axel’s decision to fight in the Revolutionary War solely dictated by his martial ambitions and his admiration for the American cause? Could it be that it also had to do with the queen’s tender feelings for him, which she was expressing with increasing candor? I believe that all three factors contributed to his resolve to engage in the conflict.Here is what Ambassador Creutz had to say about their relationship in a letter to our monarch, Gustavus III:
“I must let Your Majesty know that the young Count von Fersen was held in such high esteem by the queen that a few at court were made uneasy by the evidence of her regard for him. I confess that I myself saw too much clear proof of her penchant for the count to
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